


2018 Whumptober Prompts

by Behind_The_Hood



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Accidental Dismemberment, Amputation, But Some Are Cathartic, Canonical Character Death, HIV/AIDS, Implied Noncon, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Mermaids, Murder, Nothing in This is Happy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Underage Drug Use, Underage Prostitution, electric chair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 14,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Behind_The_Hood/pseuds/Behind_The_Hood
Summary: 1. Stabbed2. Bloody Hands3. Insomnia4. "No, stop!"5. Poisoned6. Betrayed7. Kidnapped8. Fever9. Stranded10. Bruises11. Hypothermia12. Electrocution13. "Stay."14. Torture15. Manhandling16. Bedridden17. Drugged18. Hostage19. Exhaustion20. Concussion21. Harsh Climate22. Friendly Fire23. Self-sacrifice24. Drowning25. Restraints26. Broken Ribs27. "I can't walk."28. Severe Illness29. Seizure30. Caregiver31. Showdown





	1. Stabbed (Auguste & Damen)

Damianos is knocked off his feet, slipping in the bloody dirt under him and falling on his backside, his sword thrown from his hand. He looks up at the blond man before him, golden hair a halo around his head and blue eyes burning with a tempered fire, shining sword dripping with Damianos’ blood inches away.

Crown Prince Auguste, the pride of Vere, to succeed his father’s throne after this battle if rumors hold true. The sword is drawn away from Damianos’ prone body, and Prince Auguste’s golden head tips to Damianos’ sword. An honorable man—the only one in Vere, allowing Damianos the chance to reclaim his footing and weapon.

The gash in Damianos’ shoulder gushes out a new wave of blood, staining his chiton, hidden with thick leathers, though evidently not thick enough for the prince’s Veretian steel. Damianos grips his sword anew, and both return to a fighting stance. He nods, both huffing breath, and the fight continues.

Their swords meet again and again, weaknesses are exploited, sparks fly shortly at one point, but neither fighter falls; as the day light burns on, both are steadily growing tired.

The sounds of battle sing out around them, a dark melody, and the blood is a nauseating perfume. Death is the dark mistress heralding the end to a dark day to be marked in the history books. Damianos meets a particularly harsh swing of steel.

The ground under foot slickens with the sky’s tears slowly starting to pour around them, and Prince Auguste slips, leaves himself open. Damianos sees his chance and his training and instincts take it.

His sword slides in Prince Auguste’s chest easily, but the angle will not make it a quick death. Ivory hands grasp the sharp sword, blood running in sad rivulets through his cut fingers, staining his skin. Blue eyes filled with the pain his face won’t show flick up to meet Damianos’ dark gaze.

This is far from Damianos’ first kill, but it is the one he can feel deep in his chest that he will mourn the longest. He wonders if in another life they might have been allies.

Pink lips open to speak and red stains that skin too. “Make it quick…” Rasped words, blood covering his white teeth.

Damianos pulls his sword out, the strong body trying to follow, falling to its knees before him instead. Damianos knows no death in battle is quick, even if it is short, and no matter how he kills Prince Auguste the man will still suffer.

No king, crowned or otherwise, should have his head removed without due cause, and Prince Auguste has not earned such disgrace. Damianos thrusts his sword into the place in Prince Auguste’s chest that pumps him full of life and watches the light, bit by bit, dim from his beautiful eyes.

Damianos, a prince in his own right, gives a moment of silence for the fall of an honorable man, then turns to the battle around him, the men fighting and dying on both sides, and wonders if anyone is truly the victor on this day.


	2. Bloody Hands (Damen/Laurent)

“Put your weapons down and place your hands in the air!”

Laurent is hanging by a rope out of a ceiling duct and he and Damen have their guns pointed at the wall of officers surrounding them. It isn’t looking good. It was supposed to be a simple heist. They take the statuette and they leave, no fuss no muss. Someone tipped off the cops though. Personally, Laurent thinks it was Kastor, but he cannot voice that to Damen, at least not right now.

“I said put your weapons down! Now!”

Laurent’s gaze flicks to Damen, their eyes meet, and Damen and Laurent take their hands off their guns; Damen slowly lowers his to the floor then reaches to take Laurent’s. Laurent keeps a careful eye on the twitchy green cop in the corner, sweating and shaking.

It’s not like Laurent and Damen have dangerous profiles. They’re thieves, not murderers.

Damen has Laurent’s gun in hand, moving slow, never lowering his free hand or breaking eye contact with the cops. Damen squats to the floor and puts the gun down then puts his hand back up to twin his other, rising to his full height.

Laurent wasn’t expecting to be upside down for so long and starts to become particularly aware of the blood rushing to his head. “Damen,” he mumbles, his legs shaking from the exertion.

Damen glances up at him, worry in his eyes when he sees the redness in Laurent face.

The officer in charge begins talking into his shoulder radio. Laurent feels a little dizzy, he’d been working hard to lift the glass case inclosing their prize without setting off the laser alarms, then passing the case off to Damen. But then the cops burst in and they had a stand off for a few minutes, and now Laurent is just dangling, and the adrenaline has worn off.

“Sir,” Damen speaks, slow and careful, glancing at Twitchy. Good, he noticed the shaky cop too. “My partner is going to pass out if he isn’t righted.”

A different cop shouts, “Stop talking and don’t move!”

Damen’s worry only grows as the seconds tick by. Laurent’s vision blurs and the room starts spinning. No, no that’s not right. Laurent is spinning. It’s been a long time since his hold on the rope has been so weak he spun.

A groan slips passed his lips and his arms have grown far too heavy.

At this rate, he may just fall and bust his head open when he hits the stand, or the floor, or…wherever he lands.

Laurent has a glancing thought that the cops are being very neglectful of his health.

“You,” the lead officer finally addresses them…well, Damen. “On your knees, hands behind your head.” Damen begins to comply, and the officer turns to Twitchy. “Get him down.”

Laurent laughs at the thought of the tiny little cop, smaller than himself, trying to help Laurent down from his position. His arms finally grow too heavy and they hang loose. He starts to slip down the rope and fall before the cop makes it to him.

Damen rears up to catch him, then he hears a pop and sees a bloom of blood shining on his black shirt. Then burning in his side.

“No!”

Laurent is brought to the floor, his world still hazy around the edges and his side hurts to move. Damen presses his big hands against Laurent’s stomach, fighting down the blood trying to escape, and the cops around them are yelling, at them or at each other, Laurent isn’t sure, but it’s not important.

Laurent doesn’t know if he’s going to die here, he doubts a bullet wound to the side is fatal, but he’s pretty dizzy, he can’t be sure what will happen in the hours to come. Maybe Auguste will send them back up on their way to the precinct, maybe they will both rot in jail for the next five to ten years, maybe Laurent _will_ die. But first,

“I love you Damen.”

Damen’s gaze moves from Laurent’s side to his eyes, they’re filled with tears. He gives a watery smile and shakes his head. “You aren’t allowed to say it like that, sweetheart.”

Laurent lifts his heavy arm and cups Damen’s cheek. “I mean it Damen. I don’t know what's going to happen to us, but I do know I love you.”

Damen grasps the hand cradling his face, soiled with Laurent’s blood. He nods, his tears jostled free and laughs again. “I know Laurent. I know. I love you too.”

Laurent gives a weak smile. “You’ll be okay.”


	3. Insomnia (Damen/Laurent)

Laurent’s eyes are heavy, red with aggravated veins. Damen is sound asleep beside him, snoring quietly, his back facing Laurent. Laurent stares at Damen’s back, can feel the image of overlapping scars burn in his mind, the memory of his boyfriend strapped to a post and whipped to near death a vivid memory like any other.

Laurent doesn’t know where these memories came from, but they have haunted his dreams for as long as he can remember. Auguste and his mother had assured him it was nothing, just bad dreams, and after a time Laurent learned to stop telling people about them, and had eventually come to terms with his lack of sleep.

When Laurent met Damen in college he thought he might throw up. Seeing the beautiful face of his nighttime mystery man in person so shocking it was as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over Laurent’s head.

As Laurent lies in bed, he can feel his uncle’s hands ghost over his body, an uncle he never met, dead long before Laurent had been born. Can feel squeezing pain in his heart at the loss of his brother, still alive and well, living on the other side of town. Can feel hatred so hot and love so deep for his boyfriend that has never done anything to hurt him. Remember a castle he has never lived in. Remember a kingdom that no longer exists. People he has never met. Events discussed in history books as though he lived them.

Laurent has thought of seeing a professional about his dreams.

The only reason he hasn’t is because on occasion, in a soft whisper, Damen will say something in his sleep. Something that jogs images to the forefront of Laurent’s brain, memories that shouldn’t be there, of a time that couldn’t be real, and a scene plays out in Laurent’s mind. Damen’s words the same as those that leave Prince Damianos’ mouth.

Laurent wonders about the time Damen rubbed his neck, looking away from Laurent, and confessed he never remembers his dreams.

Laurent takes a breath and ghosts his hand down Damen’s smooth back. The muscles twitch at his touch, a sound leaving Damen’s lips, and Laurent takes his hand away. _My back is sensitive._

Laurent doesn’t try to sleep that night, and Damen has come to accept that Laurent doesn’t want to take medicine to help. He never wants to be trapped in his dreams, in that time, again. So, he goes through his morning routine with Damen, under eyes dark and pace sluggish, and tries not to think about the looks Damen gives him from the corner of his eyes when he thinks Laurent isn’t looking.


	4. "No, stop!" (Damen/Laurent)

Damen fights against the chains holding him to the floor as Laurent is brought forward by a similar chain wrapped around his neck, dragged on his bleeding knees. The men around them are cackling as they kick Laurent in his side and send him sprawling.

The kings of Vere and Akielos, both missing, held here by these mercenaries from across the sea. A larger conspiracy to be looked into as soon as they’ve escaped this.

If they escape this.

The men had quickly discovered that the only real way to hurt Damen was through Laurent, so Laurent had been suffering twofold what he had at the beginning of their capture, and Damen feels so helpless and useless as he watches the abuse.

Laurent has grown weak from the pain as the days wore on, purple and blue and green mottled skin, blood dyeing him red everywhere else. Blue hazy eyes look over at Damen, pain and tears swimming.

They are both bare of clothing, degraded and spat upon. Spoken to in a language they don’t know.

They grab Laurent by his blond hair, pulling him up to kneel and holding his head at a painful angle. When they bring out a sword and hold it to Laurent’s neck, Damen panics.

“No, stop!”

His plea falls on deaf ears as the man drags his sword over Laurent’s fine, bruised neck.

Blood sprays out on Damen and cascades down Laurent’s body, a tattered curtain of life and death on his chest.

Damen chokes on air, slumps and drops his head, blinks rapidly, hears the thud of them dropping Laurent’s body to the ground with no care. He can only pray he is next. He doesn’t want to live in a world without Laurent.


	5. Poisoned (Auguste & The Regent)

Auguste stands before him, sword drawn but arm relaxed. Assured that he wouldn’t be making any sudden moves towards the door for a quick escape, Auguste brought a vial out of his pocket and looked at it contemplatively.

“Well Uncle,” Auguste says, “It seems we’ve reached the final stages of your master plan.”

Auguste brought the vial back down and took a seat on the chaise lounge, hiding any pain from the wound in his side from his battle with Damianos, and uses his sword the same as a gentleman would use a cane—with his hands both propped on the hilt. Paschal had shown the bottle to Auguste and informed him that he believed it a poison slipped into the medicine meant for Auguste’s recovery. Only one person would do such a thing, they both knew.

“This is how things are going to play out from here, Uncle,” Auguste begins. “You are either going to drink the very same poison you intended for me, or you will be placed in the dungeons tonight and tried and put to the sword by morning.” Auguste raises a condescending brow. “Your move?”

To his uncle’s credit, he only looks mildly perturbed, but it is an obvious crack in his otherwise perfect mask. It is the look of a man who knows he’s been beat. True loyalty is always worth more than the loyalty bought with gold, a lesson his uncle failed to learn. The poison was no good still in the vial, Paschal would never have used it. Whoever his uncle paid to poison him clearly did not wish to be rid of Auguste.

“What will happen to my name?” he asks.

The question throws Auguste, who furrows his brows. “Your name,” Auguste says slowly, “will be dragged through the mud. You have no wife and no children to suffer in your stead after you’re gone. You have your king, _your brother_ , killed, aim to kill me after, and rape your youngest nephew while I lie in my sickbed—an insult I _do not_ take lightly. Whether you drink this poison here and now in front of me or you have all your sins laid bare before the court, Vere, and God, it will matter not, for everyone will know your deeds. The question now is how much humiliation you will suffer before you meet your end.”

They both know what his uncle will choose. The man has a flare for theatrics, but even he cannot stand to have such a shameful spotlight placed upon him. He will drink the poison, he will die a slow, painful death, and Auguste will watch as he foams at the mouth, his blood catches fire in his veins, and he takes his final breath.

When his uncle finally nods his assent, Auguste takes the chalice of wine beside himself and pours the poison in.

He watches with a sick but fulfilling relish as his uncle chokes down his death, crawls into bed like a man walking to the gallows, and stares at Auguste relaxing in his rooms as he finally dies.

In Auguste’s opinion, as he watches his uncle squirm and start coughing, it was far too merciful a death for his crimes.


	6. Betrayed (Damen/Laurent)

Damen wakes slowly, warm and sated. He smiles when he feels the weight of Laurent' hips resting against his own. Damen’s hands creep up strong thighs and his cock stirs. The kiss of cold metal on his neck gives him pause, however.

Damen finally cracks his eyes open, blinking in confusion at the beauty in his lap holding a dagger to his throat—the same dagger Damen had gifted him only a few month before as a wedding gift. Laurent smiles down at him, his eyes soft and smile serene.

“Morning, lover.”

“Laurent?” Damen asks, pushing back into his pillow. “What is this?”

Laurent leans forward, pressing against Damen in delicious ways and whispers into his ear, “This is revenge for killing my brother.”

The blade is already cutting into his neck when Damen grabs Laurent’s wrist. Blood is already falling to the pillow under his head when Laurent places a kiss to his lips. The battle is already over before it is fought.

“Damen,” Laurent breathes, his voice even despite his arm fighting Damen’s hold. “Let go.”

Panic has Damen’s heart fluttering. He thinks to call out for a guard, then thinks Laurent is smart enough to send them away, at least any that may come to Damen’s rescue.

“I thought you loved me?” Damen asks, his voice a bit too high, too hurt.

Laurent chuckles and holds Damen’s gaze. “I could never love you, Prince-Killer.”

Damen’s grip gives a little at the title, a cold feeling in his chest, but it is enough. Laurent throws all his weight into the dagger at Damen’s throat.


	7. Kidnapped (Laurent & The Regent & Auguste)

“Uncle?”

“Hush Laurent. Just stay down and don’t make a noise. You’ll get us both in a lot of trouble if they see you. You’ll have to be punished. You don’t want that, right?”

“No, Uncle…”

“Good boy.”

Laurent stays hunkered down in the hidden compartment of the window bench, listening as Uncle answers his front door. There were some policemen coming up the walk and Uncle had Laurent hide.

Laurent remembers the sting of Uncle’s leather belt. At first it had only smacked his bottom, but lately, anytime Uncle was mad, the belt would hit anywhere it could reach, usually leave angry, burning welts, but sometimes Laurent would bleed. Uncle always apologized and helped clean the wounds and tried to make Laurent feel better after, so Laurent supposed Uncle felt bad.

But Laurent didn’t want to draw out that rage again, so he kept quiet as he listened to the muffled voices at the door. When they began to raise, he picked at a scab on his arm. When he heard shouting, he began to shake.

“I know you have him here! Laurent!”

“Auguste?” Laurent whispers. Uncle said Auguste didn’t want to see him anymore, that Auguste hated him.

“Laurent! _Answer me_!”

Laurent feels his eyes water as he raises the seat over his head and looks at the entrance.

There are two officers at the door, Auguste being held back by one, and Laurent’s parents behind them on Uncle’s porch. Everyone turns to see him, even Uncle, who is looking at Laurent with a cruel gleam in his eyes. His uncle can be a scary man.

Laurent’s mouth opens and closes, then the tears fall hot and heavy down his cheeks. “I’m…I’m sorry Uncle. I wanted to see, to see Au—” Laurent’s throat tightens— “Auguste…” he sobs. Tears are falling in earnest by this point.

Laurent shakes his head when a blurry figure comes towards him, but then he sees the blond hair, not brown, and reaches out for Auguste.

“Shh, Laurent, it’s going to be okay.” Auguste picks Laurent up and turns so he’s looking out the window to the backyard. Uncle told him about the snakes in the yard; Laurent never went out there, lest he get bit. Snakes are scary. “You’re coming home okay? I’ll keep you safe. I love you Laurent. You’re safe.”

Laurent hears the officers talking to Uncle, even though he can’t see them, and hears the door to the house shut as more shouting starts up.


	8. Fever (Damen/Laurent & Paschal)

Damen feels goosebumps raise on his flesh when Laurent’s cool hand touches his face.

“He’s burning up Paschal. Surely he should be getting better by now.”

Damen watches the good doctor dig around through his medicine bottles, looking for something.

“He should be, but the wound looks like it may be growing infected.”

Damen hears Laurent take a steadying breath.

“If you are trying to prepare me for bad news, don’t. Spit it out.”

Damen’s eyes water as a rancid smelling medicine is poured down his throat.

“The leg may need to be removed.”

Damen pulls a face at the sour taste left on his tongue, his world going hazy in a rush.

“…There must be something we can do…”


	9. Stranded (Auguste & Damen)

Auguste holds his head high among all the Akielon men staring daggers at him and brandishing swords. The chains around his wrist are a heavy, dark metal, nothing like the beautiful, thin gold the slaves wore. He had been stripped of his weapons and most of his layers, left with nothing but his pants, boots, and his billowy undershirt.

A man taller than all others gathered breaks through the crowd surrounding Auguste. Prince Damianos of Akielos. Surprise shows on his face when he is met with Auguste’s glare rather than Laurent’s, then confusion as Prince Damianos looks him over. Then amusement.

“You are big for a thirteen year old.”

Chuckles break the tension of the atmosphere surrounding them, but Auguste does not fold into the easy humor. He also refuses to speak in Akielon.

“I was told that I would be receiving your punishment in place of my brother,” Auguste informs the other prince.

Prince Damianos raises a brow, returning in Veretian, “The boy wasn’t going to get much of a punishment at all. He is young and foolhardy, as all boys that age are. He would have been scolded, nothing more.”

Auguste repeats his father’s words, “No punishment given to Laurent will teach him a lesson. He must learn that his words affect others.” Auguste stands straighter. “Laurent cares for me dearly. I am to take his punishment.”

Prince Damianos looks Auguste over again, a different look in his eyes. He smiles. “You will stay here then. Six months. Then you may return to your dear brother. You can take the time to learn our culture and maybe you will leave with a few allies.”

Auguste feels nothing but apprehension. “That isn’t much of a punishment.”

Prince Damianos shrugs easily and turns. “The boy was never going to be punished, why should you get any different?”

Auguste may not be losing one of his hands or his tongue, but he is stuck in Akielos for the next two seasons. And Laurent is left with no one to protect him from their uncle. Prince Damianos would have been more merciful to take both hands and his tongue. He’ll never know the damage he has done with his sentencing.


	10. Bruises (Damen & Laurent)

“Laurent?”

Laurent goes stiff when he hears Damianos’ voice behind him. He sniffs and wipes at his nose and eyes with the sleeves of his jacket. Auguste’s jacket. It’s the middle of the night and he’s in the park. How could Damianos have possibly found him here?

Laurent turns and sees Damianos wearing sweatpants and a plain shirt. He’s walking a massive dog. The dog barks at Laurent and wags its tail. Laurent feels a smile tugging his lips despite himself.

Damianos walks up to him with furrowed brows. “Laurent? What are you doing out here?”

Laurent reaches down for the dog to sniff his hand. It whines at him then licks his fingers.

Laurent sniffs again and folds his arms. He looks away from Damianos. “I needed to get out of the house, that’s all.” He glances at the dog. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but it’s pretty clear.”

Gentle fingers touch his face, turning it. Laurent’s heart skips in his chest when Damianos steps into his space. His breath is caught in his throat. Laurent, for a wild moment, thinks Damianos is going to kiss him.

Damianos tilts his face a little farther, until his cheek shines from the streetlight lining the sidewalks. Laurent rapidly recalls why he had originally been in the park.

He jerks his face out of Damianos’ hold and turns his back on the man.

“Laurent…who hit you?”

Laurent begins walking away. “Goodnight Damianos.”

A big hand catches Laurent’s wrist before he can get away and Laurent winces. Damianos releases Laurent, probably surprised by his pain, but Laurent takes his chance and runs away.

Damianos and the dog both bark after him, but they fade away the farther he gets, and he keeps running, even when his side begins to hurt. He runs until he gets all the way back home. His uncle is out on his porch smoking a cigar when he returns. He smiles at Laurent when Laurent passes him.

Laurent goes into the bathroom and locks the door behind himself. He grips the edges of the sink and tries to catch his breath. A glance up into the mirror shows that the punch he had taken from his uncle earlier has gone from a faint red to an ugly purple reaching for his eye.

He looks down at his neck, feeling sick and numb all at once. He sees the hickies peaking out from his shirt collar and feels heavy with the weight of an emotion he cannot name. He sits on the floor and hugs his knees. They may not be his uncle’s bites on his skin anymore, but his uncle has found another way to leave his mark.

Auguste would be disgusted if he knew what Laurent was doing to himself. Damianos would never want a whore like Laurent in his life. But--Laurent pulls the bills from his pocket and counts them again--a few thousand more dollars and he’ll be set.

Laurent had taken an extra fifty from the man he slept with a few hours ago for leaving bruises on Laurent’s wrists. He lost a client, but the man was told to not leave obvious marks. Laurent can’t hide the ugly purple of his wrists like he can the ugly purple on his face and neck.

Laurent wishes, for a single, stupid moment, that Damianos had kissed him. That Damianos saw him as more than Auguste’s kid brother. As more than just his dead friend’s pitiful, little brother. But Laurent isn’t even seventeen yet, and Damianos has a blonde girlfriend with big tits and a pretty face.

No, Laurent is only a piece of marble art, and his bruises are paint staining stone.

But he still wishes Damianos could have looked at his suffering surface and loved him anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you guys will be happy to know that I will be taking this little snippet and turning it into a full story. Yay!


	11. Hypothermia (Damen/Laurent & Paschal)

Paschal sighs and removes his hat, twisting it in his fists. His throat tightens for a moment, then he swallows past it and rises. King Damianos needs to be informed immediately.

Paschal finds the king in the hall outside the infirmary, pacing and biting his thumb nail. Paschal hates his job in that moment.

“Exalted One.”

King Damianos comes to a halt, looking pleadingly into Paschal’s eyes, searching for any answers. Paschal shakes his head.

The king’s face falls, and a gutted sound slips passed his lips. “No…”

King Damianos shoves passed Paschal in his hurry to return to King Laurent’s side. It is a lost cause, for Laurent is gone. Paschal does not return to the room after his king, instead giving him some moments alone with his lost loved one.

Paschal can still see Laurent’s body in his mind. The blue lips, the black fingers, the shivering, the desperate way he removed his body from the layers of blankets meant to warm him, the lost look in his eyes in his dying moments.

If they had gotten here an hour sooner, if they had not gone to the lake, if they had not gone riding today, if…if’s will not bring back the king.


	12. Electrocution (Damen/Laurent & The Regent)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm pretty positive two things about this prompt are untrue that I wanted to make clear before you read it. I didn't add any press when there should always be press, and you're also not allowed to witness the prisoner being strapped into the chair from the witness room but I put that in anyway; you'll see why.

Laurent stands before the glass, his hand holding Damen’s in a vice grip. Damen gives a gentle, reassuring squeeze and Laurent spares him a glance. Damen is watching him, his lips in a firm line. Not that they both aren’t happy this is finally happening, but the affair is grim.

Damen and Laurent both look over when the door on the other side of the glass opens and in walks four people, as well as Laurent’s uncle. He’s wearing a white jumpsuit with stripes on the legs and his hands are bound behind his back with what looks like a giant zip tie.

Normally this part of the extraction process wouldn’t be shown to the witness room, but Laurent had requested to see, and since he and Damen were the only ones watching, it had been permitted.

The man who is clearly the guard cuts the zip tie and they begin the arduous process of placing him in the chair. His uncle’s face and head had been shaved for this, his legs as well, though Laurent cannot see them. This was done so that there would be less resistance between the electricity and the man himself. To kill him in one solid go. The large wet sponges placed between his head and the metal contacts help.

Another man is buckling his uncle into the chair while the excess water is being sopped up and those towels placed in a bucket.

Damen pulls Laurent’s hand and they both take a seat. Laurent’s leg begins to bounce.

The warden walks up to Laurent’s uncle. “Any last words?”

“I enjoyed every second of it.”

Laurent chokes on a breath and looks down at his knees, his leg bounces faster, his hand crushing Damen’s. Or maybe Damen’s was crushing Laurent’s. Maybe they were both terribly anxious and squeezing each other’s hands far too hard.

Laurent misses when they place the wet sponge and metal headpiece on his uncle.

“Do you want a blindfold?”

“No, I want him to see this.”

Laurent looks up now, and watches everyone leave the room. Five seconds pass— _BANG_!

Laurent flinches as his uncle is hit with a thousand volts of electricity. His body snaps to attention in his chair and his eyes slowly begin to bulge from their sockets.

After fifteen seconds the electricity is turned off and his uncle’s body slumps. Laurent thinks he sees smoke rising, but it could be his imagination.

Laurent isn’t aware he’s been holding his breath until Damen squeezes his hand.

 _BANG_!

Laurent gasps this time when the electricity is turned on again. His uncle’s body convulses in his seat and the skin on his cheek looks like it’s beginning to fry. This goes on for longer than the last time.

The blinds over the window close when they shut off the electricity again and Laurent blinks several times. Damen is tense beside him, his lips still in their thin line, his eyes hard and unblinking.

A voice comes over the intercom in the room, “The legal execution of Laurent the fifth is accomplished.”

A guard opens the door then. “Please step out of the witness room.”

Laurent and Damen rise, still hand in hand, and walk out.


	13. "Stay." (Laurent & The Regent)

“Stay,” Laurent whispers, catching his uncle’s sleeve before he can leave the room. Laurent has tears well up in his eyes and slip down his cheeks. He doesn’t want to be alone.

“Oh Laurent.” A large hand cradles his face, tilting it up so he’s looking at his uncle. He wipes away the tears falling from Laurent’s eyes. “Such a sweet, lovely boy. Come here.” He pulls Laurent into his arms and Laurent comes willingly, wrapping his arms around his uncle and holding tight, sobbing into his robes. He pets Laurent’s hair. “I have you Laurent. You’re safe now.”


	14. Torture (Damen & Laurent)

Laurent pants, his breath short and shallow. His arms are strung up over his head and for each question he answers wrong a punch is landed to his torso. If he had food in his stomach, it likely would have come up before now; luckily they hadn't fed him in a day.

“Who are you? Why have you come to Akielos?”

A gentle breath, “I am Laurent the sixth, second prince of Vere.” He never says why he’s here. Not like they’d wish to hear the truth anyway.

Before a punch can be landed and the breath knocked out of him once more, the door to the cell he’s kept in creaks open. The two men in the room with Laurent turn to see who has joined them, then drop to their knees.

“My Prince.”

Crown Prince Damianos of Akielos steps in, looking far worse for wear than he had the last few days Laurent had observed him. His curls in disarray and dark circles under his eyes; a true feat given how dark his skin is.

A flick of the man’s hand and the two rise, another flick and they leave. The door shuts with a firm click behind them. Damianos stands before him.

“A Veretian arrives to my country, my capital, my _palace_ , and soon after my father falls ill and now lies on his death bed.” Damianos rakes a hand through his hair and gives Laurent a look that resembles that of a puppy. “Just…give me the antidote and I will merely have you sent back to your countrymen. What they will do with you, I do not know, but I vow to wash my hands of you, if only for my father's sake.”

Laurent takes a pained breath and starts again. “I am Laurent the sixth, the second prince of Vere.” He wills his eyes to soften. “I am not responsible for what has happened to King Theo—”

A fist to the face causes Laurent to bite his tongue and hit his head into the marble behind him. It’s not the first time he’s bled today, but this is probably the most pain he’s been in at once.

When his head turns back to the prince before him, the man is furious.

Laurent isn’t feeling very friendly anymore either. He sneers. “Maybe you should look into the bastard you keep in your home. There’s a reason Veretians disdain them,” he spits.

Damianos, if possible, looks even more furious at Laurent’s accusation. “You _dare_ —”

“I dare.”

They waste only a moment on eye contact before Damianos unsheathes his sword and puts it to Laurent’s neck.

“You should choose your next words very carefully Veretian.”

Laurent’s chin raises. He keeps his lips sealed and doesn’t taunt the man further.

The blade scrapes at the hairs on his jawline. Damianos speaks purposefully, and Laurent is loath to answer him. “Why are you here?”

Laurent knows that Damianos will not hesitate to kill him should he choose to not answer, can see the resolved gleam in the man’s eyes. “My brother sent me here.”

Damianos lowers his sword only enough that Laurent’s neck is no longer uncomfortable. “Who is your brother? Why has he sent you?”

“My brother is to be crowned the King of Vere. I was sent here…” Laurent takes a breath and steels himself, then breaks his brother’s confidence. “I was sent to spy on my uncle.”

This gives the prince pause. “Why is your uncle here?”

Laurent glares at the Akielon. “Because we believe he is conspiring with someone here to take down both kingdoms. Seeing as your father is lying on his death bed and I am chained up in your cells, the plan is working marvelously.”


	15. Manhandling (Govart & Laurent)

Govart watches from around the corner as the guards outside the prince’s door collapse. Their drunk minds couldn’t even recognize that their refreshed drinks had been drugged. The metal of their armor clanks as they go down, however, and Govart is sure the prince has stirred in his sleep at the sound, if not woken up altogether. Govart waits to see if the prince will open his door to check on the commotion.

After several minutes, Govart finds it safe enough to move forward with the plan. He motions to the other guards at the end of the hall and with slow, careful movements all five of them gather at the prince’s door. The Regent is distracting the slave, who seems to be showing signs of loyalty to the prince; the whole court has seen it, they will not believe the slave has turned on him.

Govart draws his sword and opens the door. The men behind him draw their swords as well and they all enter.

“I’m not sure how you convinced Jord and Orlant to drink their fill last night, but they will not fall for it again after tonight.”

The prince is sitting on his settee, still fully dressed, sword at his side, and looking as pristine as he always does.

He had been waiting.

Govart gives an ugly smile. “They will have more to regret than drinking after tonight.”

Prince Laurent doesn’t respond, doesn’t react in any way at all, and that irks Govart.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed the pink lining in your own cup then?”

The prince, still, does not show any signs of response, to what Govart has said or to the chalis that should be in his system.

“You are at a disadvantage, My Prince.” Govart gives a bow, with a wicked grin on his face. “Get him.”

The men behind Govart rush the prince. Prince Laurent rises fluidly and fights the first one off easily enough, but the glow of the lamp light is quickly revealing how red his cheeks and sweaty his temples are.

Govart takes the risk of tackling the prince outright. It seems enough. The air is knocked from his lungs and his grip on the sword is gone, his fist too moist to grip properly.

Govart smiles down at the red faced prince. “Your guards aren’t here to save you, your slave is otherwise _occupied_ , and you are left at my disposal.” Govart leans down to the prince’s ear, “How does it feel, Your Highness?”

Govart rears back and lands a hard punch to the prince’s cheek. While the young man is dazed, he rolls him onto his front and holds his arms crossed at the wrists.

“Give me the ropes. Bind his legs.” One man hands Govart some rope, and two others work on his legs. When they’re finished, Govart stands.

“Your head will be put on a pike for this Govart. My uncle will not save you, you are his scapegoat.”

Govart chuckles and bounces the snake prince up onto his shoulder. With his arms tied behind his back and his legs bound together, he wouldn’t be going anywhere Govart didn’t wish to take him.

Govart pats the prince on his plump bottom with mock sympathy. “Say what you will Your Highness, but anything that comes out of your mouth will make your next few days all the worse. Besides,” he says, "There are fates worse than death."


	16. Bedridden (Auguste & Laurent & Paschal)

The pallet he’s laid on his stuffed with more straw than that of the pallets reserved for those of lower station than himself, and he’d complain of the inequality of it, were he able to do more than groan in pain at that moment.

The soldiers who laid him out bow then leave the tent, making room for the nurses and Paschal. The sound of battle has grown quiet, but cheers of victory can be heard even from across the battlefield. The Akielons have won.

It was a good fight.

“Drink this Your Majesty.”

‘Your Majesty.’ Auguste chokes down the liquid forced into his mouth, daring a weak cough after. His side clinches painfully and he doesn’t attempt to cough again. _Majesty_. Another reminder that his father is dead.

The nurses are working to remove his armor, another standing at the ready to cut off his jacket and shirt, and another after that fetching water to clean his wounds.

Light filters into the tent when the flap is peaked open and a blond head peers in, a nervous hand fisted over his mouth. “Auguste?”

Paschal is first to action. “You shouldn’t be in here Your Highness,” he whispers as he block’s Laurent’s view.

“Let him in,” Auguste croaks.

Laurent ducks under Paschal’s arm at the summoning and kneels by Auguste’s head, out of the way of the nurses hard at work.

Laurent has tears in his pretty blue eyes, and Auguste can feel emotions welling up in his chest at his brother’s worry. He forces a smile. “Do not cry, dear broth—nnh.” Auguste groans as he is jostled in the nurse’s efforts to remove the suit.

Laurent is quick to lash out. Golden brows furrowed and voice harsh. “You’re hurting him!”

“They are working as quickly and carefully as they can, Your Highness,” Paschal tells him. “Time is of the essence.”

Laurent lips pull together, but his looks are still sour.

They start working to remove his clothing with precise cuts, and Auguste watches Laurent’s pale face go green.

“Look at my eyes Laurent,” Auguste instructs.

Laurent's face turns before his eyes, dragging them away from the blood seeping out of Auguste body with great effort. Auguste offers his hand and Laurent takes it, his grasp a little more than Auguste can handle at the moment. But his brother needs the support, and Auguste thinks this may be all he has left to give him after this day.

“It will be okay Laurent,” Auguste whispers, his world darkening at the edges, tunneling in on Laurent’s face. “It’ll be oh…okay…”


	17. Drugged (Laurent & The Regent)

It does not taste good. It is bitter and tart, like powder in his mouth, and it makes his tummy fizzle funny.

“Uncle you said I would enjoy this, but I do not.”

“That’s because you indulge in too many sweetmeats dear boy. You will acquire the taste.”

Auguste and his father are on a hunting trip in the Great Forests behind their palace, his uncle was supposed to join them, but he hurt his ankle when his horse kicked up and he fell off. Laurent is keeping him company per his father’s request.

His uncle’s rooms are some of the most extravagant in the palace. He has a taste for finery, as Auguste worded it, though he had a funny look on his face as he said it.

He told Laurent about a luxury powder in Vere, a very secret one, that he would let Laurent try while his father and brother were out of the palace for the next few days. Laurent had been all too excited to try.

His uncle is laying back on one of the couches in his rooms and has his ankle propped on a pillow. “It should be in your system by now. How are you feeling?”

Laurent is kneeling by his uncle’s side, a book in his lap and goblet of wine on the low table beside him. Laurent focuses on his body and how he’s feeling now, compared to how he felt when he first sipped the wine. His head feels a little light and his stomach feels like silk. His cheeks are burning. He flexes his toes in his boots and thinks about how they tickle.

“Odd.” Laurent’s brows furrow and he looks to his uncle. “Is chalis supposed to feel like this?”

His uncle smiles and lays back on his cushions. Closing his eyes, he says, “It will feel better soon.”


	18. Hostage (Damen/Laurent & Auguste)

“We’re leaving this place, and you won’t follow us. Is that clear?”

The metal of the gun is cold against Laurent’s temple, the arm around his neck tight, and Laurent holds on as he’s dragged away from his security team, family, and his boyfriend. Damen and Auguste both look murderous, his mother faint, and his father has an anger in his eyes, though he’d probably look angrier if it was Auguste.

For a moment Laurent thinks that Auguste wouldn’t have let himself be manhandled into the position of a hostage in the first place.

Laurent sees Jord calculating out where Laurent stands, if he could hit Laurent’s captive without wounding Laurent, and Laurent sees in his eyes when Jord realizes he can’t. Laurent feels helplessness suffocating him.

This group of men have been in the news for months, and they are known to kill. Laurent knew going to this art exhibition would be a mistake, that going meant risking having a run in with the thieves. They had been steadily working their way through Vask, and now here they were, in Vere, holding the royal family at gunpoint and Laurent as their hostage to escape.

They’ve already killed five people, a woman and her two children, and two different men at separate locations. What was to stop them from killing a prince if they could kill children so willingly?

Laurent knew the second that he and his captors were out of sight Damen would try to charge after them, always so reckless when Laurent was in the face of danger. For a moment Laurent worries for Damen.

Lips caress the shell of his ear, whiskers rasping against his skin. “Maybe if your boy here can be good for us, we’ll let him live,” the man behind Laurent offers, probably to the king.

An inhuman noise leaves Damen’s lips and Laurent has to close his eyes. Hot breath falls on his ear in a chuckle and Laurent is dragged away without further discussion.


	19. Exhaustion (Damen/Laurent)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some pretty major migraines these last few days and I feel like I've failed you guys with this chapter.

“C’mon Laurent, we have to go!” Damen grabs Laurent’s arm and tugs, but the man barely moves, stumbles really, before he stops again, clutching his side. Laurent begins shaking his head, his hair falling in front of his eyes.

“I can’t…go…anymore…” he huffs.

Damen flinches when he hears another shot fired. It’s not close to them, but still in their general direction. Damen grabs Laurent and tosses him over his shoulders in fireman style. Laurent doesn’t have much reaction to this other than to slump against Damen.

He’s passed out.

Damen runs.

He runs, and he runs, and his side aches, and he runs farther. When the dogs start barking he runs faster.

Damen burns and he can’t breathe and he’s about to drop Laurent.

The dogs are getting closer now.

His knees shake, then cave.

He falls face first and Laurent falls with him.

Laurent doesn’t budge.

Damen can’t breathe.

They can’t go on.

Damen, the hopeless romantic he is, knows this is their end, and spares one last longing look at Laurent’s face, before he too falls unconscious.


	20. Concussion (Damen/Laurent)

When Damen wakes up, it’s first to a warm body in his arms, then, as he grows more aware, he notices the pain in his head.

Damen risks opening his eyes and sees a blond beauty sleeping on his chest. Problem is, with a glance around the room, this blond head belongs to a blond prince. The one who flayed his back.

Laurent stirs in his arms and Damen goes stiff. Blue eyes blink up at him, and then he smiles. “Morning.” His brows furrow and he sits up. Damen is given a very clear view of his nakedness. “How’s your head feeling?”

Damen keeps his eyes focused determinedly on the face before him. But how had the prince known his head hurt? And that brings him back to the question of why they were in bed together, naked, and why he couldn’t remember the night before. Did the prince… _drug_ him?

“It hurts,” he mutters.

Laurent’s brows furrow farther and he touches Damen’s head, right at the source of his pain, with cold, delicate fingers. He rolls out of bed. “I’ll have Paschal fetched.”

The prince walks away, nude as the day of his birth, and Damen, despite himself, looks down. While the prince does in fact have a very nice bottom, Damen could see no signs that they had sex the night before. And not to brag but there would be signs.

When the prince comes back, he has a loosely wrapped robe on. He comes to Damen’s side of the bed and sits beside him, his lip worried between his teeth and brows drawn.

“You were fine yesterday, but then Makedon brought out the griva so I’m not surprised your head is worse off now than after your accident.”

Makedon? Griva? Accident? Damen’s head swims with confusion and disjointed thoughts. Laurent reaches to touch his head again and Damen sees one of his gold cuffs on Laurent’s wrist.

Damen, without thinking, catches Laurent’s hand before it can touch him. He stares down at the cuff, thinking of the lack he feels on one of his own. “I don’t understand.”

Laurent’s eyes grow pained and his hand, his whole body, tenses. “What do you remember last?”

Damen doesn’t understand the question, and thinking too hard pains his head, but he tries, and can only draw up the Regent demanding Laurent go on his border duty. He tells Laurent as much.

Laurent only seems to wither at the news. A knock comes to their door soon after.

Damen’s next few hours are spent in bed, being seen to by Paschal and nurses and Nikandros, with Laurent fretting about in the corner or by Damen’s bedside clutching his hand. His past two years are explained to him, in gentle details per Paschal’s instruction. Damen has grown weary and Laurent hasn’t spoken since Paschal arrived.

Trauma. Concussed. Amnesic.

He is holding his husband’s hand again, turning his wrist this way and that and watching the gold glint in the light. Paschal is giving instruction to his assistant. Nikandros is giving orders to the guards outside the door. The nurses are tending to his every inevitable need. And Laurent. Laurent is biting his lip and breathing slowly and clutching his hand in a vice grip.

And Damen almost wishes he could remember, for Laurent’s sake. To see him smile again.


	21. Harsh Climate (Laurent)

Each huff of air is a cloud of breath in front of his face. He can barely see passed the snow as it is, but he has to keep trudging, keep going, or he’ll die out here in the cold.

Kidnapped, abandoned, and left for dead. Traitors. Working for his uncle, no doubt. Damianos still lie in bed, recovering from the wounds on his back meant to kill him. He supposes his uncle thought to frame this as someone seeking to atone for Laurent’s sins against the innocent Akielon slave?

Whatever his uncle’s thoughts on the matter, he has likely succeeded at last in his wish to be rid of Laurent, for he is going to die in the forest.

He isn’t remotely dressed for the weather. He isn’t even wearing his jacket, only his billowing undershirt, already dense with the snowfall melting into the fabric, so his arms remain firmly wrapped around himself. The cold wind whips his face and his hair lashes out; he grits his teeth against the chills running down his spine.

He’s nearly knee deep in snow, he can’t feel his toes in his boots, he has snow building up on his shoulders. He can see through the trees, almost, where the tiny speck that is his palace sits off in the distance. Dying in his own backyard. His uncle truly has no class.

A howl reaches his ears, a wolf’s howl. Laurent pauses and turns his head around to look but cannot find where the source of the howl came. Laurent starts moving again, he cannot afford not to now, not with the threat of painful death over his head. To die in the snow is one thing, to die by wolf teeth is another.

Maybe his uncle had been counting on this; there being no body left to recover.


	22. Friendly Fire (Damen/Laurent)

They’re overwhelmed, at least three to one, but Damen is working his way steadily through the enemy and evening the odds with every swing of his sword.

He’d lost Laurent somewhere in the chaos but trusts his skill enough to not fret over this fact. Damen swings his sword again and cuts down one more man.

The ground is saturated in blood. Damen is glad to note, with a daring glance at the remaining men, that it is mostly the enemy’s.

Damen ducks a swing at his head and lunges forward, stabbing his sword into the gut of yet another man, then kicks the body off. Another comes running and wailing at him, and Damen gives a wide swing of his sword, taking that man’s head from his body.

A shout to his side lets him know he’s hit two in one go. But, wait…no. No, please not—

Damen looks over and sees Laurent standing to his right, staring at where his left arm used to be. Damen’s body is freezing in place, seeing what he has done to the young prince he has worked so hard to protect.

He’s taken his arm from him, cleaved clean from his body. Damen hit him barely above the elbow, and blood is falling out like a waterfall. Bleeding. He’s bleeding.

Damen moves into action. Must stop the bleeding. Get the prince away from the battle. Protect the prince. Protect Laurent.

Laurent hasn’t looked away from his injury, sword fallen from his loosened grasp long ago.

Damen has half his mind dedicated to ripping his shirt off and wrapping up the stump, and the other half to keeping an eye on the enemy around them. He sees Jord working his way closer, and he thinks Lazar is on their other side, both keeping their flanks safe so Damen can focus on Laurent. But he’s still got his sword at his side, ready to fight and defend at a moment’s notice.

“D-Damen…” Laurent utters.

Damen glances up into Laurent’s eyes, in time to see them roll back into his head and faint. Damen catches him just as the call for retreat rings out from the enemy.


	23. Self-sacrifice (Damen/Laurent & Kastor/Jokaste)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a pain block in my temples today, so I went a little wild with this chapter. I've tried to keep these under a thousand words but this one ran away from me. I also accidentally wrote a happy ending. I took it out of the official story, but I will put the happy ending in the end notes, because why not? Hope you guys enjoy!

A pet from Vere? As a gift for him? When he is betrothed to the king’s little brother? Damen thinks back to all the rumors he’s heard from the visiting dignitaries and diplomats about the frigid younger prince. Maybe his brother agrees and has sent an apology pre-wedding present?

Damen makes his way down the halls to see this _pet_ he’s been gifted. He has slaves who are all so beautiful and perfectly behaved, why would he need anything more? Maybe the pet is his fiancé’s and he is deigning to share?

The servant who delivered the message had been so terribly vague.

Damen enters the throne room and sees his father and brother have already arrived. There are two other men as well, King Auguste, and a younger man standing bored by his side, arms folded and not bothering to spare a glance at all the royalty surrounding him.

He has long blond hair braided over his shoulder, is wearing many layers and lace, and dripping in jewelry.

Damen walks up to the king and bows his head, an acknowledgement in their differing status. King Auguste smiles at him and clasps his shoulders.

“Enough of that, we are to be brothers within a year’s time.” He pulls Damen into a hug. Damen returns the hug, but from everything he can recall, Veretians disdain unnecessary touching, or anything that isn’t explicitly sexual, though consenting and with the same sex of course.

Auguste breaks the hug, then gestures to the uninterested pet beside him, still refusing to look at anyone. Damen can admit with the light hair and the pale skin that the pet meets his tastes as far as looks, but he has yet to impress.

“This is Charls.” The king smiles down at the pet like it’s an errant cat he couldn’t help but be fond of; the title of pet seems particularly fitting now. “Say hello to your new master, Prince Damianos.”

The pet finally glances over at him, looks him over once with his pretty blue eyes, a match to the sapphires in his ears, then smiles. The pet steps into his space and runs a hand up his chest. He’s nearly a head shorter than Damen. “Hello, _master_.”

And he is gorgeous.

Damen has never felt lost for words before, but with walking sex hanging onto him, he isn’t sure where his tongue has gone. He thinks this little cat may have taken it.

Damen chuckles nervously and grabs the pet’s wrist, removing his hand from his chest. “I uh, don’t understand why I have been gifted a pet. Is this traditional within Vere?”

The king smiles again, a little more tight lipped than before. “No, but Laurent is…not your usual royalty.” So, the prince is frigid then.

Damen is still holding the pet’s wrist, so he quickly drops it. “If this is a matter of… _relations_ within the marriage, I assure you I would not force Prince Laurent to do anything he did not wish to, and I have more than enough slaves to make up for any misconceived lack.”

King Auguste’s smile falls at this knowledge and the pet scoffs. Right, Veretians frown upon slavery. And bastardry. Damen spares a glance to Kastor; he is tense and angry next to their father. Theomedes seems to be taking in the scene with a critical but quiet eye, trusting Damen to handle his own affairs. Literally.

The pet, Charls, he reminds himself, leans against his side this time, running his leg up Damen’s. “I’m much more fun than any slave could ever hope to be.” He nips Damen’s ear. “I promise.”

* * *

The pet proves to do nothing all day every day but hang in Damen’s shadow, make inappropriate suggestion where others can hear, and intimidate his slaves without even trying. Damen has yet to take the pet up on his offers, mostly for fear this is some Veretian test of loyalty, or propriety, or whatever it is that Veretians have to test fiancés over.

* * *

After another month the pet has grown bored of being rebuffed.

Charls’ new favorite pass time is antagonizing Damen’s court. He’s taken a liking to bothering Kastor most.

* * *

Jokaste has arrived to court looking for marriage, and Damen seems to be her first choice. Charls runs her off by very pointedly straddling his lap one night at dinner and telling Damen that he’s hungry, then proceeding to slip under the table. Damen, face burning red, grabs Charls and simply carries him out of the dining hall. He does not return to dinner that night.

* * *

Damen wakes up one night to Charls not sleeping in his bed, as he has taken to doing, and instead finds him on a couch in the main chamber, reading a book by candle light.

Damen returns to bed and does not bother him.

He does smile knowing this little secret, however.

* * *

Damen spends more time in the library now than he has since he was still learning. The pet pretends to be bored still, but he eyes spines during their time walking between the shelves and Damen has them brought to his rooms during dinner.

Neither of them comments on the favor he’s done, but the pet seems more inclined to be reserved in polite company. Most of the time.

* * *

Kastor and Jokaste have become very close in the short time she has been here. Charls reacts like an angry cat when either of them comes close, and will place his hands suggestively on Damen when it is solely Jokaste.

* * *

Kastor has begun to distance himself further from Damen. He had already become distant as Damen grew, but Damen is starting to truly feel the hurt of it now. He supposes as long as his brother is happy with Jokaste he cannot feel too bitter at the loss, but he still regrets the time they hadn’t shared together now that it is gone.

* * *

Charls has taken to sitting on his lap and inspecting his food before he allows Damen to eat. He has sent more than a few plates away, as well as the wine. He also sent Makedon’s griva away, but Damen would thank him for that one later.

* * *

On one of the rare days that Charls is not following him like a guard cat, Damen happens upon him and Kastor talking in an alcove.

“You are nothing but a nasty little snake!”

When he sees Kastor backhand Charls, Damen feels as though the hand had been laid to his own skin. Damen races over and grabs Kastor by his wrist, his blood boiling. Kastor seems surprised to see him, then not at all.

“You will not lay another hand on him.” When Kastor dares to open his mouth, Damen squeezes his wrist. “I do not care what he said, it would not warrant you raising your hand in anger.”

Damen releases Kastor and watches him walk away. Charls takes Damen’s arm and rests his face against him. Damen pets his hair.

* * *

If Damen thought Kastor was distant before, he has grown outright cold now. Charls seems okay with this outcome, not that Damen entirely blames him. He’d talked with Charls about what had transpired, and then with a slave who had been nearby and saw the whole thing. Their stories lined up. Kastor had come onto Charls, and Charls informed him he only bends over for his master. Damen had blushed but accepted the stories for what they were.

The palace is currently in an uproar preparing for the wedding between Damen and Prince Laurent. He and King Auguste would be arriving next month with their whole court, and Damen had been begging for any information he could get from Charls on what the prince was like. The pet had merely smiled and shared nothing.

Jokaste also had news to share, but her pregnancy had been forgotten when a letter from the king arrived and informed them all that their party would be arriving a week early.

That night at dinner, as the to-be parents sit and sulk, Charls sits and picks at Damen’s food, as per usual. And he sends the griva away as well. Again, per usual.

“Here brother, have Jokaste’s wine. She cannot have it now anyway.” It is the first olive branch his brother has extended since he hit Charls a month ago. Damen smiles and accepts.

Charls removes it from his hand and takes a sip, staring at Kastor as he does so. Not per usual.

When he starts shaking and coughing, Damen panics.

Poison. He’s been poisoned. Damen quickly shoves his fingers down Charls’ throat and the pet rears back to throw up. The dining room is full of shouting and wine glasses being tossed away. A doctor is being called for.

Charls is starting to spasm. A cook comes out and pours something white down his throat. He coughs and gags, then throws up again. The cook helps him to the floor and turns him on his side.

Damen hears his father’s booming voice shouting for Kastor and Jokaste to be detained. They protest loudly as the guards grab them and drag them away.

Poison. Kastor had…he’d tried to poison him. And…

Damen looks down at Charls still shaking on the floor, his face green and pale, his hair a mess, and curled up in a tight ball. He’d saved Damen. He’d poisoned himself for Damen. Aids come in with a stretcher and roll Charls onto it. Damen follows after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy ending:
> 
> “I’m sorry to have lied to you.”
> 
> Damen pets Laurent’s hair away from his eyes. King Auguste sits by Laurent’s other side, gripping his hand far too tightly, if their white knuckles are anything to go by. His doctor Paschal is looking over the herbs and ointments Damen’s infirmary has to offer.
> 
> Damen smiles. “I could never hold such a thing against you.”
> 
> Laurent smiles back, then his face twists into a grimace and Damen has worry building up in his chest again. Laurent has been doing much better in recent weeks, but he still has spells of sickness; and when the news of where Damen and Charls were had reached King Auguste’s ears, the man had nearly killed Kastor with his bare hands. He’d been brought to Charls instead.
> 
> Auguste had been the one to reveal the truth to Damen, in the end.
> 
> Laurent explained that he didn’t think anyone would believe his story without Auguste to corroborate. Damen can’t say whether he would have believed him one way or the other. A Veretian prince disguising himself as a pet to find out the true personality of his betrothed? A little farfetched. How convenient he had been here though; Damen most assuredly wouldn’t be here now without him.
> 
> “The court is going to have a fit knowing you were Charls this whole time,” Damen jokes. Laurent chuckles with him.
> 
> “And the servants and cooks are going to have a tizzy about the wedding being put off until Paschal gives me the okay.” Laurent smiles at the doctor. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
> 
> Paschal smiles and does not answer. Damen has come to expect that from Veretians. He’s growing very fond of these secret smiles.


	24. Drowning (Damen & Kastor & Laurent & Jokaste)

“Kastor, you traitor!” Damen shouts from over the shoulders of the men carrying him. His hands are tied behind his back and sandbags are tied to his ankles. Kastor had led a mutiny against him and now his crew is throwing him overboard. Worse yet, they intended for him to never come back up.

“Goodbye Brother.”

Damen gasps for a quick breath the second he feels the men heave, and then he’s flying over the side of the ship.

His feet swing to the side as the sandbags reach for the water first. He splashes in and starts to sink down rapidly. He tugs his wrists and struggles against his bindings as he sees the ship float away and the sun get farther and farther away from him.

The salt water stings his eyes, so he closes them. His lungs feel tight and his body is freezing in the icy water.

His eyes jerk open when something brushes his side. He’s still sinking down, and he can’t find what fish touched him. It felt big. A shark?

In the distance, he sees two spots of light out in the dark. Eels. Eels are closing in on him.

No, those…those aren’t eels.

Damen gasps when two mermaids come swimming up to him, glowing in the water. Bubbles float up in his face and he sputters at the salty water filling his mouth.

The mermaids swim closer and Damen can see they both have glowing stripes on the sides of their tails and blonde hair, but one very clearly has breasts and the other does not. They swim around him curiously. He’s still sinking; he looks down and cannot see the bottom.

His lungs burn and he’s beginning to feel panic well up in his chest.

The mermaids chatter at one another, still swimming in circles around him, touching him, caressing him.

They smile and grab him, halting his process to the bottom. The female places a kiss to his lips, then the male. Damen is scared. He’s stopped sinking and he doesn’t know what’s happening, doesn’t understand why they are kissing him. The female reaches down and unties the sandbags from his ankles.

His lungs don’t feel so tight anymore, but he doesn’t dare believe the stories. A kiss from a mermaid cannot save you from drowning. It isn’t possible. Then again, he never believed mermaids were real either.

The male swims behind him and grabs under his arms, then starts swimming away with Damen, the female follows by their side.

The only other story he has ever heard about mermaids is the one that has his panic returning.

They eat drowning sailors.


	25. Restraints (Damen & The Regent)

Damen is dragged in by the chains connecting his wrists, then is kicked to his knees before the Regent. They are not in the throne room, but the Regent’s personal chambers. The guards keep their swords trained at his back.

The Regent is sitting in a chair fit to be an overstuffed throne, a child Damen has seen many times before is in a corner sitting on the edge of a table playing with some sapphires, and the bells at his neck ring a soft melody in the dark, quiet room.

Damen doesn’t know why most the candles are out, but he’s inclined to believe it is because all Veretians have an affinity towards theatrics.

The Regent takes a sip of his wine, and continues to stare down at Damen, his face blank of any thought in his head.

When he finally speaks, it is not to Damen. “Nicaise, leave us.” The boy in the corner takes his jewels and leaves without a word.

Damen’s eyes follow him as he goes, because he swears he has seen that boy with Laurent before as well, but he cannot figure out why this child is important.

The Regent takes another sip, eyeing Damen over the rim of his cup. “How is my nephew treating you?”

Damen glares and doesn’t deign to dignify that with a response. The crack of scabs on his back is answer enough.

The Regent smiles, tight lipped. He sits down his goblet and leans forward, his hands folded together between his legs. “I have a proposition for you.”

Damen knows the face he makes must show disgust, but the man before him laughs good naturedly anyway.

“Not that sort of proposition.” He leans back in his seat and waves the guards out. They sheath their sword, solute, and withdrawal from the room. “Now then. I’m going to speak freely.” He leans forward again, his expression very serious this time. “I would like for you to kill my nephew.”

Damen tenses in his spot on the floor.

“You do this for me,” the man continues, “and I’ll set you free.”

Damen…doesn’t know what to make of that offer.

The Regent smiles again, less pleasant than before. “I know who you are, Damianos.”

He does now how to react then, like a knife has been placed to his throat again and he is kissing his life goodbye.

“Laurent knows who you are as well.” The Regent makes a vague gesture with his hand. “If you can take care of him for me, I’ll see to it that you are returned to your crumbling kingdom in a moment’s notice. Can you do this for me?”

Damen isn’t sure he can and knowing that Laurent is completely aware of who is he, what he’s done, makes him less eager to be returned to his side.

The Regent tips his head to the side. “How’s your back feeling?” He chuckles, then reclines in his seat.

Damen stares down at the chains and manacles on his wrists. To kill the prince at the expense of his freedom or remain captive and wait for certain death. The choices laid out bare like this feels like it should be simple. The prince has already proven he is more than ready to kill Damen at his leisure. It is only a matter of time.

Damen gives a jerky nod. “I’ll…It will be done.”

The Regent hums. “Good. Guards!”

The guards return, and Damen is dragged back out and given no chance to catch his footing.

He prays he does not regret his decision. 

* * *

 

The Regent watches the captive prince be removed from his rooms. Govart steps out of the shadows and joins him at his side.

“Keep an eye on the fool. As soon as the deed is done, have him thrown in the dungeons. This should be over quickly.”


	26. Broken Ribs (Damen/Laurent & Auguste)

It all happened so fast. The memories flash through Laurent’s mind disjointed and muddled, barely creating a picture at all. Auguste behind the wheel. The light turned green. A semi hit them. Auguste bleeding. Broken glass and a cacophony of sounds. Red dripping onto his face. Their car on its side. Laurent’s head touching asphalt.

Laurent blinks his eyes open, and looks around the room he’s in. It’s all white, to varying degrees. There’s machines around him, beeping. He’s in a hospital.

His head feels tight. It hurts to breathe.

“Laurent?” Laurent turns his head and sees Damen walking into his room, a steaming cup of something in his hand. Damen sits in the chair by Laurent’s bed and places his drink on the floor.

Laurent drags his eyes around the room again. There’s only his bed. The room is small. He’s alone.

“Where’s Auguste?”

Damen’s face grows pensive.

“What happened?”

Damen takes Laurent’s hand in his own, careful of the IV in his vein. “You were in an accident.”

Laurent’s chest feels tight. He can’t breathe. It hurts to breathe.

“A semi ran through a red light and hit you.”

His head throbs.

“Auguste was hit the worst.”

He’s gripping Damen’s hand. The beeping is growing faster. His eyes are misty.

“He’s in ICU.”

Laurent gasps a breath. His ribs grit together. The air catches in his throat. He’s choking on it.

“Laurent, Laurent you need to breathe. Slow, slowly.”

Laurent _can’t_ breathe. He needs to get to Auguste. Auguste has to be okay.

“Laurent, you’re making yourself worse.”

Damen is standing now, leaning over Laurent and gripping his hand just as hard. He’s trying to coach Laurent through his breathing, but it isn’t helping. Nothing will help. Auguste has to be okay.

“Laurent, please, you have to calm your breathing,” Damen begs.

The beeping is erratic, echoing in his ears, his head throbbing in sync. His lungs burn, and his cheeks are wet. Everything hurts. His chest hurts. His heart hurts. Auguste has to be okay.


	27. "I can't walk." (Damen/Laurent)

Laurent’s teeth clamp down on the bit and his hands crush Damen’s wrists as Paschal begins to saw. His muffled screams and red face will haunt Damen’s nightmares.

The leg is a lost cause, mangled and gnarled as it is, and Laurent had been in so much pain. The removal had been his idea. Paschal had reluctantly agreed that it would be best. Damen had not agreed, still did not, but holding Laurent through the process is all he can offer as support for his husband.

Though, Damen will be the first to admit, he wishes he were holding Laurent differently than this. Damen is straddling his waist and holding his arms down. Lazar and Jord are each holding down a leg. The process would obviously be painful, but the less Laurent moved the quicker Paschal could remove the limb.

Laurent cries out again, tear tracks from his eyes to his hair. Damen’s own fall on Laurent’s cheeks.

Damen, despite seeing Laurent in utter agony, is thankful he is holding down his upper body. To see the life spilling out behind him would not have done well for his psyche. Battle is one thing. War is one thing. Fighting to save yourself is one thing. To hold down your lover and watch them bleed is another.

After many long minutes of cutting and then a small break before the equally painful cauterization, Damen can finally watch Laurent fall into a fitful rest.

-

“Damen…?”

Damen grabs Laurent’s searching hand and clasps it. Laurent’s eyes are still shut, and growing tighter as the seconds pass, his brows worrying. Laurent takes a deep breath, then releases.

“It is gone.”

It is not a question.

Paschal had applied a salve—the same he used on Damen’s back all those years ago—then a numbing agent. Laurent would not be able to feel the pain, at least he hoped, but Laurent would feel the lack. Paschal had tried to explain phantom limb to Damen, but the explanation had been lost on him. Paschal said some would only understand by experiencing, but Damen did not feel better for the reassurance.

“Yes, it is gone,” Damen answers anyway.

After Laurent had fainted from the pain, or the relief of it being over, and the wound properly tended, Lazar and Jord had assisted in lifting Laurent so the sheets could be changed. The blood now is only in his body, but Paschal informed him that Laurent would be very weak from the loss and need lots of fluids.

Laurent cracks his eyes open and looks down the sheets. A noticeable absence lay by his remaining leg. A majority of it had to be taken in order to save him in the end. Only inches of the other remained.

Laurent takes a sharp breath in and clutches Damen’s hand. He releases it slowly. “I cannot walk.”

Damen brushes Laurent's hair from his face. “We will find a solution to this as we do everything, my love.”

Laurent closes his eyes again and turns his face to Damen, seeking comfort.


	28. Severe Illness (Laurent/The Regent & Auguste)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no sex written out in this chapter, but it is so heavily implied and at one point even stated, that I felt the need to make the characters a pairing here. Please be warned here and now that this talks about rape, incest, pedophilia, and contracting HIV fairly explicitly.

Laurent has pneumonia. It was why he came to the hospital. But his doctor had given his uncle a funny look, then asked Auguste if he could do a blood test on Laurent. Auguste, being Laurent’s guardian in this case, had agreed. Laurent’s parents had shown up a few hours later.

Being informed he had contracted HIV had meant nothing to his young ears, but every adult in the room tensing and turning on his uncle clued him in that they knew their secret.

* * *

“I’ll _kill_ you.”

Laurent watches as Auguste tackles their uncle to the floor, his hands around the older man’s neck. Laurent's heart beats wildly. Auguste has to be pried away from Uncle by the doctor and their father, not before Auguste lands a solid punch to Uncle’s cheek. Laurent has his hands fisted into the sheets.

“Mom?”

His mother takes his hand from the sheet and holds it, turning his face to her, away from the brawl breaking out in his hospital room. She has tears in her eyes. “It’s going to be okay sweetie. We’re going to get you all the best doctors.”

Laurent feels another tickle build up in his throat and fights back the cough, but it is a useless battle. He covers his mouth with his free elbow and hacks violently. He shivers, sniffles, then closes his eyes, a groan leaving his throat.

“You raped him!”

Laurent flinches, opening his eyes to see that security is entering his room and Auguste is being escorted out.

“No…”

Paschal, his doctor, steps up to Laurent’s bed then, a frown on his face. “We’ll bring your brother and father back in a moment, but I do need to have a word with them about the situation. When I come back, I have some people who are going to wish to speak with you. Do you think you’ll feel up to it?”

Laurent nods, then glances out the door over Paschal’s shoulder. He can still see Auguste out in the hall, pulling at his hair and breathing heavy. Auguste glances into the room and meets Laurent’s eyes. His face falls and he shouts before punching the wall. Laurent sees Auguste start to cry, then Paschal shuts the door.

“Mom? Am I going to die?”

Laurent looks at his mother, but she has a hand over her mouth and is silently crying as well, her eyes squeezed shut and face growing red.

* * *

Detectives Jord and Lazar come to speak with him. Uncle did not return to the room with Auguste and Father earlier.

Lazar is speaking with Father, Mother, and Auguste in the hall now, but the door is cracked open. Jord is sitting at Laurent’s bedside. He’s nice.

“I hear you’re being very brave about all this.”

Laurent gives a weak nod. He’s grown very tired. He’s answered a lot of questions. Auguste is biting his thumb nail out in the hallway between questions.

Jord holds out his hand and Laurent can do little more than give a squeeze. Jord gives him a tight smile.

* * *

Laurent is asked to give a statement for Uncle’s day in court. Auguste explained that Uncle was never allowed anywhere near Laurent _ever_ again. Laurent hadn’t understood why, but he wanted Auguste to be happy again, he’d do anything for Auguste to be happy again, so he had agreed, shared again what usually happened when he and Uncle were alone, then told he could rest.

Auguste never leaves his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the research I did for this chapter is adequate, and I'm sorry if I did not cover everything properly. I tried to stay as true to the situation as I could.


	29. Seizure (Laurent & Auguste)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based this off of Photosensitive Epilepsy and Grand Mal seizures, but Laurent is still very young in this so the description is pretty poor.

Auguste is dragging Laurent though the streets, walking a little too fast for Laurent to be able to keep up without jogging. Auguste’s brows are drawn and he’s holding Laurent’s hand too tight, also his hand is sweaty. Auguste has been antsy all day.

“Auguste, slow down!” Laurent whines and pulls at his hand.

It’s growing late out, and Auguste had gotten panicky.

Auguste stops walking and rubs at his eyes. Laurent takes a moment to make sure Auguste is okay. Under his eyes are dark but he looks fine, though his hair is windswept. It’s been windy tonight.

Auguste had promised to take Laurent to his class’ fourth of July celebration, but Auguste isn’t allowed to drive so they walked there, and now they’re walking back. Their parents weren’t home; they were out on another trip to China or somewhere with Uncle.

It has grown very late.

“I’m sorry Laurent. We just really need to get home. You know I don’t need to be out after the street lights come on,” he jokes.

Laurent knows Auguste doesn’t like to be out after dark, but no one will tell him why. And he wouldn’t let Laurent stay for the fireworks either. He’d promised Laurent that he could watch them on the TV tonight with a big bowl of ice cream though, so Laurent isn’t too broken up about it. But home is still a few streets away.

The first pop in the sky and burst of color in the stars has Auguste tensing. He jerks his head up at the noise and Laurent looks too. They stand on the empty sidewalk and watch the next few fireworks set off and sprinkle colorful sparks down from the heavens.

Laurent smiles and reaches for Auguste’s hand again, but his brother’s hands are both balled into fists.

“Auguste?”

His brother’s eyes are glazed, staring up at the sky. It isn’t long before he falls back.

Laurent cries out and tries to catch Auguste, but he isn’t fast enough. He falls into someone yard instead of on the concrete at least.

Laurent falls to his knees beside Auguste and starts to shake him. “Auguste wake up!”

His brother lies unresponsive though, and Laurent is scared. He doesn’t know what’s happened, and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s all alone and they’re too far away to leave Auguste alone while Laurent gets help from the party.

Laurent gets up and runs across his neighbor’s yard and bangs on their door. “Please help! Is anyone home? Please! We need help!” No one answers. Everyone is watching the fireworks.

Laurent turns and sees Auguste shaking in the grass. Laurent gasps and runs back to his side. What is happening?

Laurent holds himself and tries not to panic. But he’s scared. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He doesn’t know how to help. No one is around to help them.

Laurent’s throat grows hot and tight. His eyes wet. He squeezes his eyes shut and holds himself tighter. “Auguste, please, you have to be okay,” he whimpers.


	30. Caregiver (Auguste & The Regent)

“My King, surely you can understand why this is more than unnecessary?”

The throne room echoes with those words. The court has been dismissed. Auguste remains seated on his throne though, sitting high above his uncle.

Auguste raises his chin—Laurent would say in a very kingly manner—and challenges, “Can I?”

Auguste takes no small amount of pleasure in watching his uncle try to formulate out all his strategies in taking Laurent from him. A useless endeavor, truly, for no one will take Laurent from him; particularly not his uncle.

“You are king now; you have no time to seeing to the proper care of the young prince.”

“Actually, I can think of no better nor more influential person to see to Laurent’s education and growth than myself.”

Uncle smiles. “Why, I believe I could dedicate more time to personally seeing to his lessons. You, my King, will be busy running the country and seeing it prosper.”

Auguste smiles, a mock of his uncle’s. “You, dear Uncle, will be busy with diplomacy and will rarely even be home.”

Uncle’s smile remains, but it is tight at the edges. “As a future diplomat himself, would it not be wise to take Laurent with me on these trips? He could learn the ‘trick of the trade,’ as peasants tend to phrase it.”

_Laurent will be learning no tricks from you, Filth_. Auguste glares. “As Heir Presumptive, Laurent will be learning to be king until the day comes that my queen produces an heir apparent. Seeing as I have not yet taken anyone’s hand, that day is looking not too soon in the future. Therefore, he will be remaining within the palace for his studies.”

Uncle’s smile has fallen. He stands straight and reassess Auguste. Then his smile returns, but it is wicked. “Why, Nephew, if I didn’t know better, I would think your love for Laurent were something other than brotherly.”

Auguste grows tense in his seat. His uncle would dare accuse him of such debauchery? “What of you Uncle? It may not be publicly discussed, but everyone in the court knows of your proclivity for the male youth.”

He and Uncle’s gazes bore into one another for a terribly long time before he bends at the waist in a bow and leaves the room. This discussion is not over, of that Auguste is sure, but it is a battle he has won over his uncle.


	31. Showdown (Damen/Laurent & The Regent)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! I hope you all are staying safe and having a great time, even if you aren't participating in the festivities. This has been a wonderful adventure and I'm glad to have shared it with you all. Enjoy our last chapter.

Damen is on the ramparts, as was part of their plan. Damen would take out the archers on the wall before they took out too many of their men, while Laurent snuck in through a secret passage and took out his uncle while the Regent’s men were unaware.

They hadn’t thought that the Regent would be standing out in the courtyard alone with all his men inside or defending the walls. Laurent had them proceed as planned, but Damen had been on edge the entire time.

Damen, from his vantage point, can see the Regent standing in armor and talking with Laurent, also in armor, and both have their swords drawn. A verbal fight is always first with Veretians; their tongues as sharp as their swords.

Damen can hear the sounds of battle within the walls of the fortress, and he thinks of joining the men who accompanied him to take out the archers and returning to the fight, but Laurent had taken an injury during their earlier battles and has grown weary as the day wore on. Damen trusts his skills, but he can admit to himself that he is nervous.

He cannot hear the words said between them, so he does not focus on them talking, he takes the moment of quiet between them as a chance to get down there should Laurent need his help.

There are a set of stairs leading to the courtyard, but it is on the far side of the—A clank of steel has Damen looking down. The Regent has taken the first swing.

Laurent deflects easily, and they stop to talk some more.

Damen regrips his sword and starts to jog along the pathway, careful to not trip over the bodies strewn about.

The clanks start again, in earnest now. The true fight has commenced.

Damen picks up his speed.

The end of the battle is…almost anticlimactic. Before Damen has even rounded the first corner, he hears the Regent cry out and when he looks down, the man is falling, and Laurent is standing victor.

Damen, full of pride and happiness, beams and lets out a whooping cheer.

Laurent turns and looks up at him, his back on the dying Regent and a smile creeping onto his face. It is the first time Damen has seen him relaxed in weeks. At least since before they left Akielos.

But Damen’s elation is short lived.

“Laurent!”

The Regent stands and before Laurent even has time to turn his head, the Regent stabs his sword through Laurent’s armor.

“No!”

For a wild, irrational moment, Damen thinks to swing himself over the side of the ramparts to get to Laurent’s side quicker. But the fall would cripple him, if not kill him, so he takes off down the pathways, praying that he makes it in time to do something. Anything. Praying that Laurent will be okay.

Praying this is all a nightmare and that when he wakes up Laurent will be sleeping by his side.

When he makes it to them, both are laying on the ground and neither is blinking. Laurent still has a sword sticking out of his chest.

When Laurent’s men come out of the fortress, cheering the rightful king’s victory, they find Damen holding Laurent’s body in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who didn't know, I added to the end notes of chapter ten, Bruises, that I would be turning it into a full story. It may be a while before it is posted, but I do have some ideas on what I would like to do with it. So, keep an eye out for that!


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